


Take It As It Comes

by femmenerd



Series: Sadie 'Verse [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cats, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kid Fic, Original Feline Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-31
Updated: 2007-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1300525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmenerd/pseuds/femmenerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Stuck in the Middle With You" and "Piecemeal." AU future with no real canon spoilers past S1. Omg, world, I wrote Sam het fic involving a CAT and daddy!Dean. It’s kind of bittersweet though. </p><p>Originally posted on LJ <a href="http://femmenerd.livejournal.com/194629.html">[here].</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Take It As It Comes

Sadie doesn’t cry much, except at movies sometimes or TV. And then she’ll just let the tears flow down her face, wiping them off periodically with the back of her hand. Sighing, “Oh,” and snuggling up into his chest. Sam’s used to it, and never freaks out when salty-wet seeps through his shirt when they’re smashed up into each other on the couch. After, when the credits are rolling and they’re both blinking into the sudden flood of lamp-light, Sadie smiles beautifically, face all red and content.

In fact, in all the years he’s known her, Sam’s pretty sure he’s _never_ seen Sadie real-life cry but she’s rocked him tight to her chest on the every-now-and-again occasions when he’s blubbered himself. That one time when Dean went on a hunting trip alone and didn’t come back or give word for two weeks. The day Sam finally moved in with her they fucked hard and fast with his duffel still half-unpacked on the floor of her bedroom, then he let out gasping sobs as she rubbed his belly with small, tender hands. “Shhh Sam,” she soothed, “that kind of waiting is over now.” Sam just turned his body over to face her so that she could see that he was smiling like an idiot as well.

*****

So Sam’s not prepared for the waterworks on the way back from the doctor’s office. He’s driving; Sadie’s sitting shotgun in her little Honda and punching the dashboard, face all scrunched up.

“It’s not fair! It’s not fucking fair.”

He gulps and tries not to kill them both, eyes flitting between Sadie’s forlorn, angry face and the road. She looks younger than they are. She looks tired. She looks fired up. He doesn’t know how to fix it. 

*****

Sadie’s brave and good though the next time they go to visit Dean and Lissa and their brood. She teases Dean about how his newest infant son is flirting with her already. She doesn’t get mad when their oldest gets sticky ice cream residue all over her new black suede coat. Sadie’s always been good about letting go of the years of city she’s absorbed when they go upstate to spend the weekend at the farmhouse. 

It’s Sam who can’t hide his frown as he watches Sadie gingerly holding the newest Winchester baby, knowing he can’t give her one of her own.

“Hey girl,” he says when she comes to bed later that night, wrapping Sadie up tightly in the patchwork quilt Lissa’s mom made.

“Oh Sam,” she whispers, wiggling her ass into his body for comfort. “Did you see how I didn’t know what to do with its little head? I probably shouldn’t be anyone’s mother anyway.” Sam doesn’t know what to say at first, just strokes his fingers under her nightgown and fumbles in his brain for the right words. Sadie starts twisting a stray curl of his hair between twitchy fingers. “You though,” she says a little louder, “you were meant to be a Daddy.” 

“Sadie!” Sam answers, taken aback. “I never...” He shakes her, squeezing the familiar softness of her hips for emphasis. “I never even _dreamed_ about any of this. Don’t do that. You’re enough.” He calms and kisses her forehead, “For me, you’re enough.” 

*****

Sadie cheers up on the outside after that, but there’s no sex. Which is okay–he understands–but it’s kind of a shock to Sam’s system after the frenetic coupling when they were trying before.

It’s hard though, because he still wants to touch her all the time. When she comes out of the bathroom with a towel on her head and a toothbrush in her mouth, Sam wants to goose her, throw her over his shoulder until she screams with the cackling Sadie-laughter he misses. On nights when she’s going out, standing in front of the mirror putting on lipstick and powder, he wants to make her late, wants to go down on her with her party dress rucked up–make her come without screwing with her make-up. He wants to fuck her in the morning sleepy and undignified when he wakes up hard as nails and she’s _there_ –to Sam that’s still a miracle after so many years alone on the road. 

He gets her a kitten instead. 

*****

Sadie used to have this cat named Buster with a lame leg and a general sense of antipathy for Sam. Buster was black-furred and cranky and loved no one except for Sadie. Actually, when Buster died was probably the closest before all this that Sadie came to crying in front of Sam. 

At the animal shelter Sam spends a long time staring at all of the kittens in cages, eventually settling on a runty little calico. Definitely not any of the black cats–he has to tread lightly here. 

When he walks through the doorway with the tiny, wiggling beast in his outstetched hands, Sam’s rewarded for his deliberations with the biggest smile to cross Sadie’s face for weeks. He wants to poke his pinky finger at that gap between her front teeth, he’s so glad to see it. 

“Sam!” Sadie exclaims, grinning as the wee thing crawls all over her. “You don’t like cats.”

“I love you though,” he says, hands in his back pockets as he leans against the doorframe watching her. “I’ll deal.” 

*****

“You guys can have one of ours if you want,” Dean jokes, voice crackling over the phone. Sam can hear high-pitched shrieks of “Daddy!” in the background, then a second later a crash of some kind. He raises a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head at his unseen brother. “Jesus Christ! Knock it off already, Sammy. You know you can’t have any damn cookies before your mom comes home.”

In spite of himself, Sam quirks a grin at that. “I can’t?”

“Hang on a second, Sam. Kids are like wild animals, I swear,” Dean replies. Sam can hear his namesake sulking now, lisping about how his Dad shouldn’t curse. 

“You shouldn’t have named him that, you know. It’s just confusing.”

“Yeah well,” Dean says, mouth to the receiver again, “Liss really wasn’t going for ‘Dean, Jr.’”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Sam agrees and looks up at the clock. “Hey man, I’ve got to go, I’m at work.”

“Right. Got all that strenuous librarian-ing to do,” Dean snarks.

“We can’t all be as manly as you,” Sam sasses back lazily. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait, Sam, hold up.”

“Yeah?”

“Getting her a cat was real sweet of you. You’re a gentleman and all that but...”

“But what?”

“But dude, it’s gonna come up again. Be prepared. You know how it is with women–you gotta talk it out eventually.”

“Do I know you?”

“Shut up, Sammy. You know I’m right.”

*****

This cat, who Sadie has unsurprisingly named “Keaton,” doesn’t hate Sam at all. He rubs his little kitten-self all over Sam’s ankles when he’s trying to brew coffee in the morning, making it hard to walk. He insists on sleeping in between them at night. Sadie snickers at Sam’s consternation at the tiny claw marks on his ass or being attacked by a flying fur ball when he’s trying to seriously kiss the back of her neck. But she sounds happy then, and as cats go, Keaton’s all right.

Sam’s still overjoyed though when one night Sadie purposefully deposits Keaton in the hallway and shuts the bedroom door as fast as she can. She looks only slightly pained when she hears the mewling on the other side of the wall, then sets her face and instructs, “Winchester, it’s time to strip.”

It’s good–so good–to be inside her again, to feel her clench and buck against him. The way Sadie laughs when she comes, warm and wet and open to him again. He missed her.

She’s half-asleep when Sam whispers into Sadie’s ear, “We could adopt, you know. We can do whatever you want.”

“Okay, Sam,” Sadie mumbles, and winds her feet around his naked calves, knitting their limbs together loosely. “We’ll figure it out.”

Sam kind of wants to cry then, but he doesn’t; he just goes to sleep lulled by the rhythmic purring sound coming from across the bed.

*****


End file.
